want to do. You're nothing to me. I do what I want to. I'd seen that horrible look before. I knew it well. Gary Soneji, Casanova, Mr. Smith, the Weasel. He was a psychopath too. Francis was as crazy as any of the killers I'd caught. Maybe he'd spent too long being underappreciated working in veterans hospitals. Undoubtedly, it went a lot deeper than that.
'One of the bank-crew members you interviewed remembered you. He described you as having a hooked nose, large ears. That's not Frederic Szabo.'
Francis turned away from his coffee-making and let out a harsh, unpleasant laugh. 'Oh, that's very compelling evidence, Detective. I'd like to hear you present it to the district attorney in Washington. I'll bet the DA would get a good belly laugh out of it too.'
I smiled back at him. 'We already have talked to the DA. She didn't laugh. By the way, Kathleen McGuigan has talked to us too. Since you didn't return her call, we went to see her. You're under arrest for robbery, kidnapping, and murder. Doctor Francis, I see that you aren't laughing anymore.'
He continued to make his coffee. I sensed that his mind was racing way ahead of the conversation. 'You notice that I'm not rushing to call my lawyer either.'
'You should,' I told him. 'There's something else you should know. Szabo finally talked this morning. Frederic Szabo kept a diary of your sessions, Doctor. He kept notes. He wrote about your interest in his plans. You know how efficient Frederic can be. How thorough. He said you asked more questions in his therapy sessions about the robberies than you asked about him. He showed you his blueprints for everything.'
'We want the money, the fifteen million dollars,' Betsey told Francis. 'If we recover the money then everything will go easier for you. That's the best offer you're going to get.'
Francis's disdain was blossoming. 'Let's suppose for a moment that I was this Mastermind you speak of. Don't you think I'd have a stunning escape plan figured? You couldn't just barge in here and capture me. The Mastermind wouldn't allow himself to be caught by two peons like you.'
It was finally my turn to smile. 'I don't know about that, Francis. We peons might surprise you. I think you're on your own now. Did Szabo give you an escape plan too? He probably didn't.'
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty
'Actually, he did,' Francis said, and his voice was at least an octave lower than it had been. 'There was always a slim, slim possibility that you'd catch me. That I'd be faced with life in jail. That's totally unacceptable, you understand. It isn't going to happen. You do understand that?'
'No, actually, it is going to happen,' Betsey said with firmness to match Francis's statement. Meanwhile, my hand was already reaching for my gun.
Suddenly, Francis broke for the glass door that led out on to the rooftop deck. I knew there was nowhere for him to go out there. What was he doing?
'Francis, no!” I shouted.
Betsey and I pulled our guns simultaneously, but we didn't fire. There was no reason to kill him. We rushed out through the door and followed Francis in a sprint across the weathered, wooden deck.
When he reached the far wall of the roof deck, Francis did something I would never have imagined, not in a hundred lifetimes of police work.
He dove off the terrace which was at least five floors above the street. Bernard Francis dove headfirst. He'd break his neck for sure. There was no way he'd live.
'I don't believe it! 'Betsey screeched as we got to the edge of the deck and looked down.
I didn't believe what I saw either. Francis had made a dive five stories down to a shimmery blue swimming pool. He surfaced and began to stroke rapidly toward the pool's far wall.
I had no choice and I didn't hesitate. I went off the high roof deck after Dr. Francis.
Betsey was no more than half a step behind me.
We both yelled as we cannonballed all the way down to the pool.
I hit the surface of the water with my backside first, and I was punished severely. My body went splat. My insides felt as if they'd been hastily rearranged.
I shot to the bottom, hit it pretty hard, but then I was paddling to the surface, swimming as fast as I could toward the far wall. I was trying to clear my head, to focus my eyes, to think clearly about stopping the Mastermind's escape.
I climbed out of the pool and saw Francis running on to the property of the bordering condominiums. He was throwing off water like a duck.
Betsey and I started after him. Our shoes were squeaking and sloughing water. Nothing mattered except that we had to catch him.
Francis was picking up speed and I did the same. I guessed he must have a car parked in one of the neighboring lots or maybe even a boat in a nearby marina.
I was gaining very little ground for all my efforts. Francis was running barefoot, but it didn't seem to slow him down.
He peered over his shoulder and saw us. Then he straightened his head and saw something that changed everything.
Up ahead of Francis in the parking lot were three FBI agents. They had their guns drawn, aimed at him. They were yelling for him to stop.
Francis came to a dead stop in the crowded lot. He looked back at us, then faced the three agents. He reached into his pants pocket.
'Francis, don't do it!” I yelled as I ran toward him.
